Crossing A Canyon
by Saberi
Summary: Wherein Spike has a prophetic dream, saves Buffy's soul, gets one of his own for the trouble, and spends some time with his Grandsire. Contains depictions of self-mutilation (eventually).
1. For Fun and Prophet

A/N: This is my first BtVS fic. Please review and let me know what you think =)  
  
Crossing A Canyon  
  
Chapter One: For Fun and Prophet  
  
By Saberi  
  
  
  
Spike stared glumly at the disgusting pig's blood in his mug, and added the herbs he'd nicked from the Magic Box from his last 'visit' to the slightly lukewarm fluid.  
  
With an unnecessary sigh, he drank. Much to his dismay, he was getting used to the taste of animal blood. Two years ago, he could barely stomach it, and now it was tolerable. Pathetic, really.  
  
His 'meal' finished, the vampire headed down into the underground catacombs, crawled into his bed, and pulling the somewhat unnecessary covers over himself, slept.  
  
* * *  
  
He watched her approach the demon with purpose in her step and determination in her eyes. As she drew nearer to the hulking red figure with the nasty horns and third eye in the middle of its forehead, however, her step faltered and her eyes lost their light.  
  
It seemed to Spike as if she simply gave up. Something about the demon was controlling her will, he guessed. As the Slayer stood stock-still, the demon began to chant. A glowing mist began to seep from Buffy's body and into the demon's own, and when there was none left, she simply... dissolved.  
  
* * *  
  
Spike sat up in bed, his eyes wide with horror. He was no stranger to nightmares- he'd dreamt of Buffy's death ever since they'd stopped Glory's little portal-opening party at the cost of Buffy's life. But those dreams had always been about Buffy's final jump, and how useless and helpless he'd felt as he'd watched her die.  
  
-But she's back now,- the confused vampire thought. -So why am I dreaming about her fighting some kind of demon I've never seen before?-  
  
He wondered if the dream meant anything. It was entirely possible to see the future- he knew *that*, after dealing with Dru's visions for a hundred years, and Buffy sometimes had prophetic dreams. If his dream was an omen, the question was... why was he dreaming it? He was no psychic, that was for sure.  
  
  
  
The vampire waited until sunset, and then slipped outside. He made his way to the Magic Box, and after making sure no after-hours Scooby meetings were being held, snuck in through the basement entrance he used when he was stealing stuff. There was no stealing tonight, however. He'd come with a mission- find out if the demon from his dream was a real one, and what to do about it if it was.  
  
Spike headed to the upper floor of the shop, where the books containing the information too dangerous for the average customer's eyes were kept. There, by the dim glow of a flashlight, he pored over several demon anthologies, searching for the creature in his dreams.  
  
-Oh shit. Holy *fucking* shit!- He thought as he read the text underneath the depiction of the demon.  
  
  
  
"The main source of sustenance for the Rekkai demon is human souls. They are especially attracted to strong souls- those that belong to wielders of supernatural power. It is exceedingly difficult to kill one, as they will generally begin to drain the soul from any being that attacks it."  
  
  
  
Spike slammed the book shut and stalked back to his crypt, trying to think of some way to warn the Slayer without coming across as a complete lunatic.  
  
He could just imagine the conversation...  
  
"Buffy, excuse me, but there's a soul-sucking demon on the loose and its out to get you. How do I know, you ask? Well, I dreamed about it, and then I broke into demon-girl's shop and did my homework. No, I didn't steal anything while I was there, what do you take me for? Well, no, I guess you're right. I do have a tendency to nick stuff, don't I? Yes, I can see how that affects my credibility a little. Never mind, then."  
  
No, it wouldn't work that way. Besides, she probably wouldn't let him get within three feet of her. Nooo, she had to be the one in control of where and when they met up. The best he could do was shadow her when she went on patrols, and make sure that he was there when it attacked her.  
  
-Stupid bloody demon can't very well suck the soul from something without one, can it?- He leered to himself. Maybe if he saved the soul of the woman he loved, she'd stop treating him like a damn fucktoy and realise the depth of his feelings for her. Maybe.  
  
-A bloke's got to have hope, right?-  
  
He knew that the love of his unlife had been rather ambivalent towards life since she'd been brought back, but he could sense a change in her lately. She didn't want to die anymore, and that, as far as he was concerned, was a very good thing.  
  
Despite the possible bad situation, the (formerly) Big Bad Spike found himself almost whistling as he walked back to his crypt. The prospect of saving Buffy and possibly getting her gratitude in return was an uplifting one. 


	2. The Long Dark Teatime...

Chapter Two  
  
The Long Dark Teatime…  
  
  
  
For three nights, he'd been following her- keeping himself just outside of the Slayer's "vampire-sensing" range, and for three nights, there had been no sign of any soul-sucking demon, although he continued to have the same dream.  
  
-Maybe I'm just going insane,- he thought glumly. Spike had to admit, the prospect of being the knight in (somewhat tarnished) white armour had appealed to him.  
  
He was about to turn and head back home when something in his mind clicked. This street, this exact viewpoint, was where he was in the dream, when he watched the demon attack Buffy.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a flash of red, and he knew that it had to be the demon. It sprung out from behind its hiding place and as Buffy moved to attack it, began that crazy chanting that Spike had heard in his dream.  
  
Without a second thought, he propelled himself with kamikaze speed towards the incapacitated Slayer and the thing that threatened to take her away from him. He knocked her out of the way, and then began to attack the Rekkai demon with a vengeance.  
  
The fight was short and sweet, and in a display of irony, Spike managed to pull the demon's sword from it's sheath and behead the Rekkai with his own blade.  
  
Turning his attention to Buffy, who was coming out of the spell-induced daze, he didn't notice the glow that rose from the corpse of the demon until it was too late.  
  
It surrounded him, and he found himself staring into the faces of every person he'd ever killed. Their screams, cries of pain, pleads to stop it, end it now…  
  
"Oh, for-" he muttered, exasperated. With a conscious effort, he pushed the visions and the feelings of guilt and sadness that accompanied them to the back of his mind. The most important thing, right now, was making sure Buffy got home all right.  
  
They walked in silent companionship, his arm around her waist, supporting her. The Rekkai demon hadn't managed to drain her soul, but what he had done left her feeling weak and unsteady. It was a feeling she altogether didn't like.  
  
After seeing Buffy inside, Spike made his way back to his crypt. The effects of the fight were just beginning to catch up with him, and the vampire fell almost immediately into an exhausted sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
"Please, don't kill me!"  
  
Pain-filled screams cut off as he tore into their throats, drinking in their essence.  
  
"Wh-what are you?"  
  
The intoxicating fear in their eyes, enticing him, beckoning to him.  
  
"Tell my mother, I'm sorry…"  
  
By far the most powerful blood he'd ever taken in. Hers was unlike any other he'd tasted. Full of strength and life. He craved more…  
  
* * *  
  
The vampire disentangled himself from the sheets as he woke up. He noticed with a sort of detached interest that he wasn't in his bed- in fact, he was in the top level of his crypt. He stumbled to a corner and proceeded to vomit up his last 'meal' of blood.  
  
The nausea remained, however.  
  
-Get a grip, Spike.- he chastised himself mentally.  
  
Leaning against the wall of the crypt for support, he slid down into a sitting position, wincing as his hands hit the cold stone floor. He stared at them, blinked in confusion, and then continued staring. Sunlight burns covered his palms, which was odd, because he'd been asleep all day.  
  
His thoughts wandered to the subject of his dreams. As if that annoying, recurring prophetic one wasn't bad enough, now he was experiencing guilt for the deeds he'd commited in the past.  
  
-Wait a minute. Guilt… who do I know that's both guilt-ridden and a vampire?-  
  
"Bloody hell!" he groaned, dropping his head into his hands, momentarily forgetting the burns. As if things couldn't get any worse, now he was turning into his poof of a Grandsire.  
  
The week passed by in a haze. Buffy had stopped by the day after he'd killed the Rekkai demon to say thanks, but hadn't been back since. She didn't even ask him how he'd known it would be there, and he didn't volunteer the information.  
  
Dawn hadn't come to see him either, but that he could understand. Those damn Social Services people were watching the Slayer and her little sister like hawks. If they got wind of a 15 year old girl sneaking out at night to go to a cemetery to visit her friend who lived in a *crypt*, it could very well be the end of Buffy's custody. None of the Scoobies had stopped by- not that he cared about them.  
  
Really, he didn't.  
  
After the first couple of days, Spike had given up trying to eat anything. Nothing stayed down longer than a few hours anyway, because of the dreams. And despite his efforts to stay awake all day, watching reruns on the telly, inevitably he'd give in to exhaustion and drift off, starting the whole bloody cycle over again. The burns kept getting worse, too. He couldn't understand it. He wrapped them with gauze to try and get them to heal faster, yet every night when he woke up the bandages were on the floor and the burns were worse.  
  
There was really only one thing left to do. Despite knowing deep down that it was the only solution to his problem, Spike really, really didn't want to do it.  
  
That night, he tossed a change of clothes and his cell phone (acquired that summer when Giles finally gave up trying to convince Dawn to stay away from Spike) into the back of his DeSoto. Then, without a backward glance, he drove at top speed to LA, current home to the only person who could help him. 


	3. Pot. Kettle. Black.

Chapter Three  
  
Pot. Kettle. Black.  
  
  
  
Spike looked at the burnt out wreck of what had once been Caritas with dismay. He kicked absently at a piece of charred wood before moving to intercept another vampire that had been lurking about, watching him.  
  
"What happened to the place?" Spike jabbed a thumb in the direction of the wreckage.  
  
"Humans," the other vampire rolled his eyes, "twice."  
  
"Great," Spike muttered as he released his hold on the other vampire, shoving him backwards as he did so. "Just great!" He stalked off angrily, leaving a very confused vampire in his wake. He'd been hoping to deal with Angel on neutral ground, since he rather liked his head attached to his body, thank you very much. Now it looked like he'd have to go find wherever the poof was staying.  
  
"What, was he a big karaoke fan or something?" The vampire Spike had questioned wondered aloud, watching the platinum-bleached vampire's quickly retreating form.  
  
A good spot of violence and several substantial bribes later, Spike found himself standing in front of the imposing structure that was the Hyperion Hotel, current base of operations for Angel Investigations.  
  
"Well, here goes nothing," he said, bursting through the doors.  
  
"Hello?" A shaky female voice called out. Spike couldn't see who was speaking at first, so he continued forward in the general direction that he'd heard the voice from. Slowly, a brown-haired young woman poked her head up from behind the front desk. She was watching him with caution, and he noticed that she was armed with both a cross and a squirt gun filled with holy water.  
  
"Relax, pet, you won't need those," he said, reaching over and plucking both items easily from her hands with a smirk. The bandages around his own kept the cross from burning him, but it still made him nervous. He tossed it on the counter, out of the girl's reach. "I'm of the fangless variety."  
  
"So, not a vampire, then?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
"I never said that," Spike reached over the counter and pinched the girl's arm, grimacing in pain as the chip went off. He looked up to see her rubbing the spot he'd pinched and staring at him with a questioning expression.  
  
"I'm every bit a vampire, love. I just can't harm humans on account of the headsplitting pain I get when I try."  
  
"Oh," she said softly. "Well, I guess if you can't do anything to hurt me, it's okay for you to stay here. Were you looking for anyone? Because I'm the only one here and I don't know when anyone else will be back," she paused, taking a breath. "Did you want to talk to Angel or something? Does he know you're here? Oh, dear. I'm rambling again. Why didn't you tell me I was rambling?"  
  
Spike just cocked his head at her, a slightly bemused expression on his face.  
  
"Oh! You don't even know my name, how rude of me. I'm Fred," she offered a hand to the vampire.  
  
"Spike." The vampire replied, taking the hand hesitantly and shaking it.  
  
The two chatted amiably for the next few hours while they waited. Spike decided he rather liked the slightly loopy young woman. She reminded him of Willow- pre-magic-binge anyway- in a way. He wasn't in the least bit put off by her tendency to ramble, as spending a century with a much more insane (and violent) vampiress had enabled him to accept and deal with seemingly odd personalities rather easily.  
  
Fred was relating a tale involving Angel and a mucous demon to him when the very same vampire arrived, closely followed by the rest of the Angel Investigations crew.  
  
"Fred!" Cordelia yelped in surprise, "that's Spike! He's a vampire, get away from him!". When she didn't move, Cordelia turned to Angel and hissed, "do something!"  
  
Angel growled and launched himself at the younger vampire, tackling him to the ground.  
  
"Hey!" Fred shouted indignantly, "we were having a conversation here, you know."  
  
"He's a vampire," Wesley reiterated unnecessarily. Fred just rolled her eyes.  
  
"You think I didn't know that? He won't hurt me, or anyone else for that matter," she glanced over to where the two vampires were rolling around on the floor, fighting. "Except Angel, apparently."  
  
Angel managed to gain the upper hand for the moment, and was attempting to keep Spike pinned to the floor.  
  
"Some help, please?" He requested as Spike continued to struggle beneath him. Gunn moved over quickly and held down his arms. Spike continued to attempt to lash out at his Grandsire, apparently not noticing the fact that four hands were holding him down now. Spike's fist connected with Gunn's face, and the vampire let out a howl of surprised pain.  
  
"What the?" Gunn exclaimed, backing away in shock. "I always knew I had a hard head, but that's kinda strange…"  
  
Fred walked over to Angel and kicked him in the shins, causing the souled vampire to lose his grip.  
  
"I said he wouldn't hurt anyone, Angel."  
  
Reluctantly, Angel let his Grandchilde stand up. The blonde scrambled to his feet, glaring at Angel.  
  
"Care to explain what just went on?"  
  
Spike scowled.  
  
"I've got a chip in my head that prevents me from hurting humans. So your merry little band is safe from me, Angelus."  
  
"And you're here, why?"  
  
"The usual. To make your life a living hell," Spike grinned, then sobered quickly. "Actually, I need…"  
  
He was cut off by the sound of a baby's cry coming over the monitor that stood on the counter. Angel glared at Spike.  
  
"Now look what you did, you woke the baby."  
  
"Baby?" Spike raised an eyebrow, "I didn't even know there was a soddin' baby here!" he shouted after Angel, who was heading upstairs.  
  
A minute later, he came back down the stairs, smiling baby in his arms. Spike moved to take a closer look, and Angel barely managed to keep himself from instinctively holding his son away from him.  
  
"Cute rugrat. So who're the parents? I thought you kids were detectives, not the Babysitters Club."  
  
"He's mine," Angel practically growled.  
  
"What'd you do, turn human for a day and knock up some chit?" As he was still staring at the baby with a somewhat entranced expression, he missed Angel's flinch at his words.  
  
"Darla's the mother."  
  
"Darla's a vampire. You're a vampire," Spike pointed out unnecessarily.  
  
"I noticed," Angel replied dryly.  
  
"So where is she, then?"  
  
"Dead." Angel said shortly.  
  
"Again, huh?" Seeing Angel's curt nod, Spike wisely decided not to (for once) aggravate Angel by pursuing the matter any further. "So what's bite- size's name?" he asked, switching tracks.  
  
"Connor."  
  
There were a few moments of silence as Spike looked first at the baby, then at Angel, then back at the baby. A thought struck him suddenly, and he snickered.  
  
"So, does that make him my nephew or my uncle?"  
  
Angel frowned thoughtfully, the question having never actually occurred to him. Of course, Spike being involved in his son's life at all had never occurred to him either.  
  
"Both, I suppose. So, why are you here? Who knows, maybe we can help you," Angel wondered why he was even offering to help his Grandchilde. After all, the last time they'd been in the same room together Spike had been watching as Angel was tortured.  
  
Meanwhile, Spike was having an inner debate about whether or not to tell Angel about what had happened to him back in Sunnydale.  
  
-He'll understand what I'm going through. He'll laugh and refuse to help me as revenge. He knows what it feels like, he wouldn't do that. Why would he care?-  
  
Angel looked at Spike, who was staring at him with a contemplative expression, and for the first time noticed how truly thin he was. It couldn't have been the fact that he was feeding from blood bags instead of humans, Angel himself was evidence of the fact that you could survive perfectly fine on the vampiric bagged diet.  
  
"I, I, think I have a soul," Spike finally blurted.  
  
There was silence, and then, a shout of surprised laughter from both Cordelia and Angel, the only two who knew what kind of person- vampire- Spike had been. Everyone else just looked confused.  
  
"Why is that so funny?" he spat out. "Why is it that you can have a soul, and everyone's fine and dandy with it, but if I have one, it's a cause for a joke?"  
  
Angel stopped laughing. Spike did have a point. But Cordelia just smirked.  
  
"Angel is good, you're not," she said, although she didn't sound completely sure.  
  
Spike resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall.  
  
"And I suppose he was a bloody saint before he went and took a bite out of the wrong girl?" he rolled his eyes.  
  
"All right, Spike. Fine. You've made your point. What do you want me to do?" Angel said, effectively cutting off Cordelia's response.  
  
"Look, Peaches, can we take this some place a little more private? I don't fancy an audience while I tell you my little tale here."  
  
"Fine, we'll go up to my room," he moved towards the stairs, Spike on his heels. "And *don't* call me Peaches." 


	4. A Lesson in Cryptic

Chapter Four  
  
A Lesson in Cryptic  
  
  
  
"Spike?" Buffy called out as she cautiously opened the door to his crypt. Stepping inside, she looked around. The place looked, well, deserted. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she encountered the unpleasant scent of congealed blood.  
  
It had been a week since she'd last seen Spike- and although she wouldn't admit it to anyone else- she was starting to feel worried. Something strange had happened to him the night that he'd saved her from that demon, and it was bugging her.  
  
It was weird, actually. But the day after the attack had occurred, she'd woken up feeling optimistic for the first time since she'd been back from the dead. It was almost as if some great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, leaving her free to feel happy again. She was so caught up with getting back into the swing of life that she hadn't truly Spike's conspicuous absence until now.  
  
"Spike?" she called again, descending into the underground portion of the crypt.  
  
-Maybe he's just out, going for blood or smokes or something,- Buffy told herself when once again, there was no answer.  
  
When she noticed that most of his clothes had been cleared out, an overwhelming feeling of panic and sadness gripped her.  
  
-He wouldn't just leave, would he?- she thought despairingly. Her eyes scanned the room for some sort of clue to Spike's whereabouts. There was nothing, not even a goodbye note. Buffy knelt down to the floor and picked up a silk shirt that lay discarded on it. Bringing it to her face, she inhaled the trace of Spike's familiar (and admittedly, somewhat comforting) scent of cigarette smoke and well-worn leather.  
  
Still clutching the shirt, she laid down on the bed, suddenly overcome with exhaustion.  
  
* * *  
  
"I knew you'd come."  
  
Buffy found herself looking down at a young boy. He had curly, sandy-blonde hair and hauntingly familiar blue eyes framed by a pair of too-big spectacles that were currently slipping down his nose.  
  
The child pushed the glasses up onto the bridge of his nose with an index finger, then held out a hand for Buffy to take. Not knowing what was going on, Buffy automatically clasped it, and followed him when he started to walk.  
  
"Where are we going?" the Slayer asked.  
  
"I have something you need to see." He stopped in front of a table with what looked to be a photo album sitting on top of it. He smiled encouragingly at her. "Go on, look inside,"  
  
Wordlessly, Buffy lifted the book from the table and opened it. Flipping through, she noticed that it was empty except for a single picture on the last page. The picture contained three figures- Spike was in the centre, with a nasty-looking demon on his left, and a human wearing a tweed suit that reminded her of Giles on his right. As she stared at the picture, the demon faded, leaving only Spike and the human. As she examined the picture closer, she realised that the human *was* Spike. Or at least, must have been Spike, before he was turned. There was no mistaking those cheekbones, or the eyes behind the wire-frame glasses.  
  
Buffy looked down at the child who was wearing an identical pair of said glasses.  
  
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It was supposed to come back slowly, but it happened too fast and now you're the only one who can help…"  
  
Buffy could feel the dream begin to lift.  
  
"Wait!" she called out, desperately. "What is 'it'? How am I supposed to help if I don't know what's going on?"  
  
"The City of Angel holds your answers…"  
  
* * *  
  
"City of Angels…" Buffy grumbled. "Oh yeah, that's original. But what the hell's in LA that's so important?" she groused, picking herself up from Spike's bed and climbing back up towards the upper level. Checking her watch, she noticed that her little tenure into cryptic dream land had only lasted about half an hour- Willow and Dawn wouldn't be expecting her home for a while yet.  
  
During the walk back to Revello Drive, Buffy mused on what the dream meant and what to do about it. Obviously, she was supposed to go to LA- that much was plain. But what was she supposed to do once she got there? Her eyes widened as she recollected the last thing the boy had said to her. He hadn't said City of Angels, but rather City of *Angel*. Whatever was going on, her ex-boyfriend played a part in it.  
  
"Hey, I'm home!" she called out as she entered the house.  
  
"Buffy. You're home awfully early. Vamps take a night off?" Dawn inquired.  
  
"What? Oh, uh, yeah… Dawn, look, is Willow around? I've got something I need to talk to you both about," Buffy said as she walked into the living room.  
  
"Did I hear my name?" the aforementioned redhead poked her head into the doorway.  
  
"Yeah. Wills, Dawn, I've- I've got to go to LA for a while-" Buffy was interrupted by Dawn, who asked while making a face at her sister,  
  
"To go see Angel?"  
  
"No. Well, yes, but not in that sort of way…" two equally blank looks were directed at the Slayer. "I mean, I'm not seeing Angel to see *Angel*, I'm going because Spike's gone to see him and I'm supposed to go to Spike." She paused, letting the information sink in. "As for how I know- Slayer dream." Her audience nodded, having experience with such occurrences. "Now, I don't think it should take more than a week, but I really don't know. I'm going in tomorrow to book off work, and then I'm leaving. You two will be all right?"  
  
Dawn smiled at Buffy. In the past few weeks, she and Willow had repaired the rift that had opened between the two since Dawn's accident. Besides, even if she'd still been mad, Buffy was going to go help *Spike*, she would have endured it for his sake.  
  
"Yeah. Don't worry, Buffy. We'll be good. No parties while you're gone, honest. Well, not any that we won't clean up after, anyway…" Dawn said innocently. "Hey, is that Spike's shirt in your hand?" 


End file.
